


Snapshots in Technicolour

by clonecept



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F, Prose Poem, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-13 12:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2151534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clonecept/pseuds/clonecept
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of Cophine vignettes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

# I.

* * *

She ran her fingertips over the fraying red threads and pressed her face against the soft fabric. It suffocated her; the familiar scent of stale marijuana, rubbing alcohol, and powdered nitrile gloves.

It was a poison - one whose only antidote was the poison itself. Like cigarettes, but faster and slower at the same time; no smoke, no fire. She quit years ago.

_Cold turkey; abruptly._

 

# II.

* * *

Shivering hands cradled the candle, casting warm shadows against the peeling wallpaper. Power outage again.

The DYAD days were over, and gone with it the glass and chrome, drywall over concrete. White and sterile. She didn’t miss it. She learned to revel in the imperfections, the anomalies, for that was what made the world  _move_.

She was an anomaly.

 

# III.

* * *

White knuckles tightened around the worn metal pole as she jolted to a halt. She stepped out onto the sidewalk as the bus hissed and sped away in a plume of acrid smog.

Her boots pattered and splashed against the glistening pavement as she hurried into the stone building. The reader trilled as she passed through and shrugged on her white labcoat.

This is where it started, this is where it ended.

 

# IV.

* * *

She threw the deadbolt home and hung her jacket. She paused at the red shadow hidden in far side of her closet and shut the door.

The groceries spilled from the bag over the counter as she poured herself a glass of wine.

She had lost count. Day after day, trial after trial.

The Eskimo Pies were melting. But she still remembers the last Good Day.

 

# V.

* * *

The phone rung, almost as loud as its neon green case. She looked up with a question in her eyes.

 _Sorry,_  mimed a grin and waving hands.

“Hello?” Pause. “Yeah, yeah, uh… hang on…”

The voice drifted away and then silenced as the door shut.

She looked down at the sample in her microscope. Some things she was better off not knowing.


	2. Chapter 2

# VI.

* * *

She laid out the treatments on the fridge shelf, each coded numerically, organized and ready. Six sets, all told.

She shed her lab coat for her jacket. “I’m going to get some lunch. Do you want anything?”

A hand waved at her, golden bracelets jangling. “No, I’m fine.”

“Okay.”

A terrible liar. They both knew it.

 

# VII.

* * *

Orange light slanted in through the windows and crashed against the walls.

“How about we go out for dinner tonight?”

She looked up from her microscope with a smile. “Okay.”

“It’s a date, then?”

She nodded.

“Cool.” Breathy exhale, grinning. “Cool.”

She scribbled down a note. A warm hand slid over hers and squeezed.

“Wear something nice, okay?”

Rasping wet coughs cut through the conjoined silence. Her heart squeezed back.

_Okay._

 

# VIII.

* * *

The red curtain fell down the clear glass, slow and patient. She bit into a truffle. A small indulgence.

“That was good, wasn’t it?” The plates were returned to the kitchen, half-consumed.  _A Good Day._

“Mm hm.” She pressed the half-truffle against pale lips.

A warm breath and a cold hand wrapped around hers and she held them, cradled in both hands.

“It’s going to be okay.”

“Yeah, obviously.” Those eyes had not smiled since yesterday.

 

# IX.

* * *

Darkness crept up the walls, the eerie blue glow from the screen took over the room.

She rubbed at her bleary eyes.

This was it. This was everything. Years of research amounting to one goal that she had worked tirelessly to achieve.

A finger hovered, hesitating.

`> Delete? Y/N`

`> Y_`

 

# X.

* * *

Muted light bled through the sheers and flooded the room. She knew from the cold emptiness that lay beside her that she was alone.

Ensnared in white sheets, she turned to look at the void beside her.

_Gone._

She shut her eyes and rolled over. It wasn’t worth waking up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Found these last few vignettes sitting in my drafts folder. Probably less polished than I had planned or I had a 15th vignette to write but I guess I never finished it.

# XI.

* * *

“We no longer require your services, Doctor.” The voice slithered, filled with malice.

She swallowed, rooted in place.

“Needless to say, your failures have put us all in a very precarious position. I have redacted all access and transferred what remains of the research to someone more… competent.”

“I understand,” she uttered, leaving her badge on the white lab coat discarded on the desk.

She never did go home.

# XII.

* * *

Snow-covered boots stomped up the steps as she tugged her red scarf off. She froze at the door, slightly ajar. Her hand gripped the pistol in her purse as she gently pushed the door open.

“Hey,” a familiar smirk greeted her, a wave of a hand. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

The gun dropped to the bottom of her purse, pulling it off her shoulder and falling to the ground with a thud.

“Cosima.”

# XIII.

* * *

Cosima is generous with words, flowing naturally and effortlessly and tumbling in warm and inviting tones from smiling lips, propelled by waving hands.

Hers are stilted, carefully crafted and laborious in their delivery from her tongue. Her words fall softly, swaying and trembling on their way down. They touch the ground lightly the way clandestine feet do on slippery walnut brown wood plank floors.

Diction does no justice the way that lips and tongues do.

# XIV.

* * *

Fingers threaded through fingers, entangling as skin pressed against stretched linen, all flickering beats, fluttering breaths, and floundering gasps.

Insatiable red lips against flesh, clawing their way through the thin visceral layer, bruising and healing, pushing and stealing.


End file.
